Talkin' baseball with Don Zimmer was a joy

Sometimes in this business, we forget about how lucky we are and the blessings that we have.

Like the time Bobby Bowden, in the news conference after his final game at Florida State, gave me a shout-out and told the entire room how fair my coverage of him had been through the years.

Or the time Steve Spurrier called when he was coaching the Gators to get my opinion of an idea he had. "We're gonna start calling our home field 'The Swamp,'" Spurrier said. "What do you think?"

Or the time I stood in awe on the 18th green at Augusta National when 21-year-old Tiger Woods triumphantly marched his way up the hill amid raucous roars to win his first green jacket at a course no black man was allowed to join until six years prior, at the tournament whose creator, Clifford Roberts, once said, "As long as I'm alive, golfers will be white, and caddies will be black."

I was reminded of another of these cherished moments earlier this week when Don Zimmer, the national treasure of our national pastime, passed away at age 83. How many people can say they got to spend 30 minutes sitting in the dugout talking baseball with Zim — a man who knew Babe Ruth, played with Jackie Robinson, played for Casey Stengel and coached Derek Jeter?

As Tampa Bay Rays manager Joe Maddon told me at the time: "It's kind of neat when you get a history lesson from somebody who was actually there."

It was seven years ago that the Rays were playing the Texas Rangers in a game at Disney's Wide World of Sports. At the time Zimmer was Maddon's senior baseball adviser and resident Yoda. As I ambled up to ask Zim a couple of questions, he waved me into the dugout, sat down and took me on a magical mystery tour through the annals of baseball.

As I wrote then:

"For a few magical minutes, he makes you forget about the surliness of Barry Bonds. And the selfishness of Roger Clemens.

He makes you forget about the arrogance of Scott Boras. And the absurdity of Bud Selig.

And players shilling themselves by injecting steroids. And killing themselves by driving drunk.

I wish everybody had a chance to do what I did Thursday afternoon. You want to feel good again about the national pastime? Sit in the dugout for a half-hour with Zim — the grand old man of the grande olde game."

Zimmer was part of Major League Baseball for 66 years and never earned a paycheck doing anything else. He was the sport's Forrest Gump — an unlikely presence to some of the game's most historical moments. As I sat in the dugout that day at Disney, I thought of the old John Sebastian song:

"Oh, the stories he could tell

And if it all blows up and goes to hell

I can still see us sittin' on a bed in some hotel

Listenin' to the stories he could tell."

Like the time Zim got married at home plate at a minor-league stadium in Elmira, N.Y., to the girl he'd been dating since the 10th grade.

"That was 55 years ago," Zim said then of his wife Soot, "and she's still putting up with me."

Or the time Zim almost died at the ballpark when he got beaned in the head and had his skull fractured?

"I woke up 13 days later and thought it was the next morning," Zim said and smiled.

Or what about the time when you were 72 years old and charged Red Sox pitcher Pedro Martinez during that bench-clearing brawl, and he tossed you aside like a rag doll?

"When he pushed me down, I tried to get up and pulled a groin. I was laid up for a month!"

Zim, what was it like being the third-base coach for the Red Sox when Carlton Fisk hit his famous home run in the '75 Series? Or being the manager of the Sox when Bucky Dent hit his famous home run in the '78 division tiebreaker? And didn't you play for the worst team in baseball history – the '62 Mets? And weren't you playing for the Dodgers the night Don Larsen threw a perfect game against you guys in the '56 Series?

"When you've been around as long as I have, you see a lot of things," Zim said that day in Orlando. "I've been lucky, real lucky, to have been a part of this game for so long."

No, Zim, we are the lucky ones.

We are the ones who are fortunate you were a part of this game for so long.